Life in Nam: Week 15

Figuring it out.



The perfect road trip weekend. Two gals hit the road heading west to Swakopmund. We threw our bags and bikes in the back of Andrea’s VW “kombie” (with a Grateful Dead sticker on the back), Paul Simon and John Lee Hooker on the cassette player, and the car, nicknamed “Shanti” (or White Lightning III, as I referred to her), drove a steady 100km/hr. All of this in order to swim, bike, run...

It was a typically overcast coastal morning. We stood on the beach near the Jetty, waiting for our turn to swim through epic swells in 16 degrees C. The 2011 Desert Triathlon was not exactly on my “to do” list when I arrived in Namibia a few months ago. But when I met up with a group of hard core runners here, they quickly convinced me to step outside of my comfort zone for the open water (ocean!) swim. So I joined the group of other insane wetsuit-clad athletes and proudly finished, albeit slowly. (I blame flat tires and the ridiculously challenging swim conditions: http://www.namibian.com.na/news/full-story/archive/2011/december/article/murphy-wins-desert-triathlon/)


If this is not figuring it all out, then this is pretty damn good.

Weeks 13 and 14

Le temps passe vite!

It's true what they say about Cape Town being Africa's "mother city." One instantly feels at home. The Cape offers everything - amazing food, wine, people, art, culture, beaches, shopping... and all with the stunning backdrop of Table Mountain.

If the dunes of Sossusvlei bring to mind the gates of hell, then the Saturday farmer's market in Cape Town is a little piece of heaven. If Namibia is famous for its desolate beauty, then Cape Town is it alter ego. Stunning in saturated color and eclectic in everythingness, for me, Cape Town was love at first sight. The highlights: hiking Table Mountain, driving to Cape Point, hanging on for dear life as Dad drove us down Chapman's Peak, watching the sunset from Signal Hill, touring Robben Island, finding an art studio hidden in a castle, checking out a hipster bar in Kloof.

The city - and its history - are works in progress. Huge areas such as District Six where blacks were forced from their homes are still virtually uninhabited. While it is progressive, dynamic, colorful and thriving, there are always two sides to every story.

Life in Nam: Week 12

The Game of Life.

Something about visiting the world's oldest desert brings people together like family. The dunes at Sossusvlei are visually stunning, and I was fortunate to share the experience with my Dad and brother, Max, who are visiting for a few weeks.

Sossusvlei ("source of water") is nestled in the Namib desert, in a pristine national park approximately 4 to 6 hours (depending upon how many flat tires) southwest of Windhoek. We camped just outside the park with a group of twelve fascinating and surprisingly outgoing travelers from Canada, Finland, Ireland, Israel, America, and Japan. Together the group ventured into Dead Vlei (see photo), a place captivating and beautiful in its simplicity. Yet it's what one imagines the gates of hell might look like, with desolate, cracked earth, and where the most dynamic things are the shadows. I felt far, far away from DC or NYC. There are no pretenses in the desert. (Well, except for some of the 5 star lodges catering to wealthy tourists along the way)

Between hiking the dunes, sightings of springbok, ostrich, and desert zebra, and my Dad giving "free advice" to the youngsters on the trip, we had a great time with our very memorable group. One fellow traveler introduced us to the game of life. If you ever say the word mine you're subject to 10 push ups. And the game never ends. ever. for life.

A simple lesson, in the simplest of surroundings, about sharing. This experience was ours.

Life in Nam: Week 9

There are plenty of characters in this town, and many were out in full cultural splendor during the Oktoberfest/Halloween weekend. Oktoberfest in Windhoek is similar to, but much smaller than, the one in Germany: day drinking, live music, supersize beer steins, lederhosen, dirndls, a mechanical bull, and drunk old men.
Following a few hours at Oktoberfest, I accompanied Lerine and Charene to Kiepie’s, the late night Afrikaner bar. Imagine a roadhouse in Oklahoma (á la Scooters) with a band playing 80s hits and entertaining a crowd of couples two-stepping and those on the brink of a bar brawl. Lucky for me, a Rod Stewart look-alike wanted to teach the unteachable American how to two-step.

Wednesday was song night at the Playhouse Theater, featuring some incredible local talent. I went in support of my new friend, Gloria Song. Quite possibly the most authentic stage name ever. Preferring, however, to go by “Gloria Guns,” she’s a Korean-Canadian who sings country and plays the guitar. Not so typical here in Windhoek. After her performance, Gloria was approached by a recording studio! One only hopes she’ll become the biggest thing to hit Namibia since Westlife.

On Sunday, I found a great excuse to dress up and celebrate Halloween with a group of “hashers” who hike the trails (of which there are many) in and around the city. Given his ties to Namibian history, I felt it appropriate to dress as Fidel Castro, with a tin foil beard. Creativity comes with limited resources...

Life in Nam: Week 8

Survival of the fittest

In a country with the highest income inequality in the world, where unemployment is at 50%, one would think an “Occupy Windhoek” might take shape. Not so…at least not yet. Globally, faith in institutions is deteriorating, largely due to poor resource allocation by governments. So where does Namibia stand? Its recent designation as an Upper Middle Income country may have taken away a perceived urgency in solving many problems. But there now exists urgency among external donors (in the area of HIV/AIDS) to transition a greater role to the government in funding and resource allocation.

Namibians (I generalize based on conversations/reading the local papers) are angry that their government is spending $15 million on luxury Mercedes for the highest public officials. One wonders, how many lives could be saved with that $15 million? How many nurses or doctors could be trained with that money? Okay, yes, $15 million is small potatoes in comparison to the US DoD budget. But I ask again, how many lives could be saved with that $15 million?

As I’m learning at site visits to TB/ART clinics, just one of the many challenges in this transition is training local clinical staff to meet the country’s health care needs. In some of these clinics, only 2 doctors and a handful of nurses tend to thousands. It’s a constant numbers game – funding, resource allocation, capacity building. And yet, this is the second least densely populated country on the planet (Mongolia takes first place). It is a place of stunning contrasts, and lifestyle is no exception. By sheer numbers, as an Upper Middle Income country, Namibia should be able to provide for anyone and everyone.

So why the disparity? Is Namibia where Charles Darwin meets Nouriel Roubini?

Life in Nam: Week 7ish

In search of the desert elephants...

Damaraland, Vingerklip, and Twyfelfontein: places that sound, and look, like fairy tale locations. Damaraland is in northwest Namibia, about 6 to 7 hours from Windhoek. Named after the Damara people (and geographically designated as their "official" home, during apartheid), the region is sparsely populated and in parts, seems completely uninhabitable. At every turn, the landscape is distinct - canyons, sedimentary rock mountains, hills covered in boulders where the earth was flipped inside out. At points we were only 60km (as the crow flies) from the Skeleton Coast. Yet a drive to the coast on gravel and salt roads would have taken hours. (note: of the 35,000km of roads in Namibia, only 5,000km are “tar roads.”)

So the real adventure of the weekend (fortunately, not more car trouble) was finding a rare herd of desert elephants near a natural spring on the Ugab River. Sigi, our guide, is a South African who has devoted his life to being in the wild. He had been following these particular dozen elephants for over eight years and came to know them so well, that he witnessed the birth of lucky number 13: a tiny baby elephant born on July 23, 2011. Driving through the bush and subsequent stargazing, it was clear that Sigi knew the terrain and the southern night sky like the back of his hand.

In Namibia, what you lack in GPS you make up for with a cooler full of beer to toast a successful elephant sighting.

Life in Nam: Week 5

Namibia: 3. Stupid Americans: zero.

(This score is beginning to look a lot like a South Africa vs. Namibia rugby game. Someone is losing pretty significantly because they are quite the amateur and in over their head.)

So let’s just say two stupid Americans - names have been changed to protect the innocent - decided to drive a Mazda 6 (affectionately known as “White Lightning II”) from Windhoek to the Soussesvlei dunes – about 400km of gravel roads. While there may not be the traffic as in Washington, DC, forces of nature – rain, rocks - become real obstacles here. Due to the inordinate amount of rain this year (by Namibian standards) parts of the road were flooded and thus impassable in a Mazda 6. So, we took the prudent approach and turned around, only to immediately hit a rock that cracked our engine, leaked oil, and led to the engine seizing.

Did I mention we were in the middle of the desert with no cell phone coverage?

…Fortunately, we were only 1km from the home of a lovely self-described “farmer woman” named Caroline. We sheepishly (no pun intended) explained to her our predicament and asked to use her phone to call a tow truck. The sun was setting, and the tow driver explained he would arrive the next morning. Caroline graciously offered a place for us to stay, and the three of us chatted and shared dinner over a bottle of South African wine.

It was an unintended, but fascinating encounter. The farm has been in her family for years. Her husband owns the neighboring farm, second marriage for both, grown children living around the globe, and a family that has hiked Kilimanjaro and sailed hobie cats together. She explained to us how nice it is to live such an isolated existence (the stargazing from her back porch was incredible). She travels to Windhoek once a month for supplies for the farm. Her stories illuminated a life of growing up under apartheid and farming in a rugged, challenging environment.

Needless to say, we were not the first silly travelers with car trouble to knock on her door. Nor the first Americans. She was very eager to share her opinions of American politics, policies, and presidents. I wish I could say that my inept driving skills and annoying American habits are making amends for the Bush presidency.

Namibia is teaching me: don’t try to fight it. Just let it go. As the inscription on the inside of the Windhoek Lager bottle cap says: “Keep it real.” Or, just get a huge 4WD “bakkie” and your problems should be solved.